


The Gold Digger

by posingasme



Series: Muses and Angels [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherhood, M/M, Wealth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Immediately after the debacle at the exhibit opening, Castiel continues his work trying to keep together his squabbling family of eccentrics, in deep contrast with the real connection the Winchester brothers have shown him.
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Series: Muses and Angels [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/264208
Comments: 76
Kudos: 37





	1. Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of Muses and Angels.

“Here’s what I don’t get.”

Sam lay on his pillow and heaved a sigh. “I imagine there’s a lot,” he said into the phone wearily.

“You told me not to wear jeans. He wore jeans.”

He smirked up at the ceiling. “Dean, he’s the artist. It’s a look when he does it.”

“It’s a better look when I do it.”

A laugh tumbled out finally. “Agree to disagree.”

“And another thing. What’s with the pirate stuff?”

His eyes narrowed. He thought back to all of the artwork at the exhibit. “Pirate? What pirate stuff?”

Castiel emerged from the bathroom already dried off from his shower, completely naked. “Sam-oh. Sorry.”

He grinned at his lover. “Nothing to apologize for.” He turned onto his side to watch his angel prepare for his day. It was a lovely show.

“Is that the pirate?”

“What?”

“How’s he doing? About his brothers?”

Sam smiled sadly as he watched Castiel cursing to himself and picking through his jewelry and clothing. “Still nervous,” he sighed. “What about you?”

“My brother isn’t an asshole.”

He snickered. “I meant how are you? You make it home?”

“Almost. I’m stopped for coffee. Why? Need me to come back?”

Castiel was busy trying to make his hair lie flat, something Sam had never seen him bother to attempt before. It was weirdly fascinating.

“Of course not,” he murmured. “Don’t be stupid. Do wish you had been able to stay longer. I feel like we got robbed of time.”

“I’m going to go. I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay? Study. Or whatever.”

At last, he sat up in the bed. “Yeah. Be careful. Text me that you got home okay.”

“Yes, Grandma.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

They hung up the phone that way, and they each knew what the other really meant.

“Dean?” Castiel asked into the mirror.

Sam stood out of the bed in just his tattered boxers, and stepped behind him to put hands on his angel’s back. He scratched gently, and watched strong shoulders round with pleasure to give him more access. “Who else do I talk to like that? He asked about you.”

“Whether or not I’m still a conceited ass trying to control his brother?”

He leaned down and kissed the back of Castiel’s neck. “No. How you’re doing about your brothers.”

“I’ll survive. I always do.”

“You’re meeting them for breakfast?”

Castiel sneered into the mirror. “Brunch, bordering on lunch. Because you can’t expect Luke to see the light of day before ten at least, but you can’t expect to have Michael’s attention beyond noon, when the market’s been open too long. At least it’s a Sunday. He might even stay long enough for the coffee to cool. But not long enough for Luke to switch to liquor. Of course, if Naomi is there, Mike might start with an Albariño himself.”

“What’s that?”

“Vino verde, from Portugal. It’s a breakfast wine.” He said the last two words with exaggerated distaste.

“I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“We have Alvarinho vineyards in northern Portugal. I’ll take you one day when you feel like getting mildly drunk before noon.”

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Castiel groaned as he pulled himself into his clothing. “Don’t pretend like there’s method to my madness. I live in a constant state of naive wishful thinking filed down into sharp, fanged jadedness by astute cynicism, and rounded out with copious amounts of denial and alcohol. If I sucked at art, I’d be entirely useless to society. I’m doing this because I’m doing this. Lawyers need reasons for things. I’m my own bad reason.”

When he looked up, Sam was smirking at him.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking very loudly.”

He wrapped his arms around his lover, who just slumped into the embrace without hesitation. “Cas? I love you. I’m proud of you.”

“Sam,” a muffled voice said into his chest, “as a reward for not dying yesterday, can I go down on you again today?”

It made his whole body warm just to think of it. He shivered with delight, but then shook his head. “Not now. You have brunch.”

“But I don’t want brunch. I want you.”

He laughed and stepped back to peer into those bright blue eyes. “Angel? Aren’t you hung over? You were more wine than man last night.”

“I’ll feel it later. But by then, I won’t be able to tell if it’s the wine head or the sound of Gabriel’s voice making me want to stab myself in the face.”

“Gabe will be there too, huh?”

“I’m sure he’ll bring Kali for protection.”

Sam frowned as something occurred to him. He had never been in a position of meeting the family of a lover before. Now he wondered what was expected of him. “If Kali’s going to be there, and maybe Naomi...shouldn’t I also come?”

Castiel snorted. “I would never ask you to do that, not after what they pulled last night.”

“Cas? I’m not afraid of your family. I want to be there for you when you need me. If I came, would you be more or less uncomfortable? I don’t want you feeling like you need to protect me or anything. I can handle myself.”

“So can I.”

But the blue eyes had lowered, and Sam touched his chin to gently lift it. His lover’s gaze settled back on him with a look of pure devotion. He smiled. “I know you can. But let me be there at your side while you do.”

Relief eased Castiel’s grimace. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have asked.”

“You should have. I’m glad I thought to offer. Do we have time for me to shower?”

“You’d rather shower than-“

“No oral till after brunch, Cas. I want something to look forward to.”

The genuine sigh of disappointment made Sam chuckle.

“Have I mentioned how much I love that you love going down on me?”

“Have I mentioned how much I love that you love me?”

Sam kissed him softly. “I do love you, Angel. Keep getting ready. I’ll catch up.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll only be six feet away, Cas. Don’t be dramatic.”

At last, a characteristic, mischievous smile came over him. “Have you met me? I’m the embodiment of subtlety. Remember?”

Sam was still rolling his eyes as he slipped into the shower.


	2. Mind What is Mine

Michael’s broker had not appreciated being awoken before six on a Sunday morning. But that was hardly his concern. The man was well-paid to handle Michael’s investments at his whim, no matter the time of day or night. And if Michael couldn’t sleep, no one who worked for him should be able to either. 

His little brother had a higher net worth than he did. 

Of course, that was just what the brat had said. Who knew if it was true? But just the idea made Michael’s blood boil in his veins. Even his vicious fight with Naomi had not taken his mind off Castiel’s words. 

Naomi was smiling sweetly at cousin Gabriel in that way that made it clear that she wished he would disappear and never return. She had slightly more respect for Kayley, the woman Gabriel called Kali, except that her family had no status to speak of. At least she had money, and carried herself like it. Michael supposed that was the best they could hope for from Gabriel. The older man was glad Uncle Raphael wasn’t alive to see the impressive amount of nothing Gabriel had made of himself. 

His gaze turned to the door, and he locked eyes with his twin brother. 

Speaking of nothing. 

Luke’s eyes were rimmed red, and his hair was a mess, but at least he was in a proper suit. The man stumbled to their table and sat beside his brother, grabbing for the coffee Michael had ordered for him. One gulp in, Luke was glowering at him. “This is certainly subpar,” he snapped. 

“Good morning, Luke. You look well-rested.”

Luke sneered at him. “And you look exactly the same as you always did. Your hair doesn’t move without Naomi’s permission any more than hers does.”

“One of us has always been able to pull himself together after a long night, Luke. One never has. Be envious, but don’t be angry.”

Luke snorted into his coffee. 

Michael smiled into his own. 

“Luke!” Naomi sat at the other end of the table, opposite him. Michael liked that for two reasons. For one thing, it made them seem every bit the power couple they were. For another, it placed him as far from his wife as possible while still sharing the same table. 

His brother looked up. “Good morning, Naomi. Gabe, Kali. Where is our guest of honor?”

Gabriel looked down at his bread. “Probably doing the smart thing by not showing up.”

Michael huffed. “He will be here. Little Castiel isn’t one to avoid an entrance when he could be the center of attention.”

“Ah. Here he is now,” Naomi purred. She glanced at her husband with sharp eyes, and he raised his eyebrow in return. 

Castiel was walking in, and that Sam character was with him. 

“You’re growling,” Luke snickered under his breath. 

“He brought him. The gay man.”

“You mean he brought his boy-“

Michael’s fiery eyes cut off his brother’s taunt. “You’ll kindly never finish that sentence,” he hissed. “This ends today, Luke. It was amusing at best, but now he’s flaunting it in public. The family doesn’t need this. The man is clearly mining, and I don’t appreciate him confusing Castiel’s principles while he does it.”

Gabriel greeted Castiel and Sam with hopeful eyes. “You came!” he sighed. 

Sam gave him what Michael assumed passed for a sincere smile. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Castiel lacked most of his jewelry this time, which Michael appreciated, considering the air of the restaurant, and he was dressed far more conservatively than usual. He scanned the table, then turned icy blue eyes on Michael. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask them to fix the mistake, Mike.”

The table got quiet, except for Kali’s soft snort. 

Michael met Castiel’s eyes with innocence. “Has there been a mistake, Castiel?”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Oh,” he said stupidly. Kali rolled her lovely eyes at him. 

Naomi gave them all her best painted smile, and lifted a manicured hand to wave at the hostess. “Dear, we seem to be a chair short. Could you please?”

“Of course, ma’am.” The woman hurried to retrieve a chair and setting from a nearby table. “I’m so sorry. I thought the reservation was for six. That’s my mistake.”

Castiel had not looked away from Michael. “It was for six,” he replied coldly. “You didn’t make the mistake. My brother did. Thank you for correcting it.”

The hostess looked around at them all nervously, then slipped away with a curt nod. 

Sam’s hand touched Castiel’s back lightly. “Let’s just sit, Cas,” Michael heard him whisper. 

Castiel sat, but he continued. “It’s just that I know you received my text that Sam was joining me. So I can’t help but wonder if your portfolios might be flagging due to an inability on your part to do basic math, Mike.”

Naomi choked on her tea, and Kali grinned into her own. Gabriel put his head down into his palm. Luke laughed aloud. 

Michael chuckled darkly. “Forgive me, Castiel. I did a little research on your friend, and found that he works in a restaurant. I guess I wasn’t sure if he would be joining us at the table or in the kitchens.”

Sam’s eyes widened, but that was the only reaction he gave away. In fact, he smiled. “It’s just as well that I’m here instead,” he responded in a light tone. “My restaurant is a sports bar, and I’m sure none of you are up for nachos.”

“I’m up for nachos,” Gabriel argued miserably. He looked at his fiancé. “Can we get nachos later?”

“If you’re a good boy and eat your vegetables,” she returned. 

Sam and Luke joined in the laugh, and even Naomi’s shoulders eased a bit. She cleared her throat. “So? Coffees and tea are well and good, but I’m hungry. Aren’t you, dear?” She directed this at her husband. 

He didn’t want to be the first to break eye contact with Castiel. But he knew better than to ignore his wife. He nodded, and looked at the menu instead. “Yes.” 

Luke stretched his arms above his head. The coffee and banter was bringing some color back to his gray face. “The tenderloin looks good.”

Michael glanced at the suggestion. It was described as grilled marinated Australian beef tenderloin with   
celery root puree, rainbow chard, baby spinach, and served with port. He might have ordered it himself, but he disliked that Luke had seen it first. “Maybe,” he replied doubtfully. “I’m inclined toward the roasted sea bass.” The menu said it was served with a chorizo-smoked paprika vinaigrette, sweet potato-yam mash, and roasted fennel. 

When the waitress came for their order, Kali and Gabriel each ordered rigatoni pomodoro. Naomi ordered the seared wild sea scallops. Then the server turned to Castiel and Sam. 

“I’ll have the roasted cauliflower custard, truffle linguini, cepes and buckler sorrel,” Castiel murmured. “Thank you.” Then he glanced at Sam. 

Michael watched with interest as Sam pointed anxiously toward a menu item, and received a shrug from Castiel. He cleared his throat from the other end of the table. “Order whatever you like, Sam,” he said grandly. “Obviously I’ll be handling the check when it arrives.”

Sam stared hard at the menu, but the waitress looked at Castiel in confusion. “But I thought you-“

Castiel gave her a nod. “Yes. As I said on my way in, the check will come to me. For the whole table. My brother had not gotten the memo yet. Thank you.”

She glanced at Michael, as did everyone else at the table, apart from Castiel and Sam, who quietly ordered a Caesar salad and heritage carrot mousse with Parmesan. 

Michael could feel his face burning. One look from Naomi told him to fix this. This ridiculous power struggle between him and Castiel was going to end, and Michael planned to come out on top. Michael was the head of this family, in loco parentis, and he had no intention of giving up that role. He had not crushed his twin brother under his thumb for all these years just to submit to the baby of the family now.


	3. Ice

Sam’s stomach was churning. He continued to smile as well as he could, and direct most conversation to Gabriel and Kali, both of whom seemed grateful for his company. Even Naomi was as pleasant as Sam supposed she could be. He engaged her in conversation about her company, and she gradually took on more of a professional demeanor instead of...whatever her personal one was. Sam hadn’t figured out what to call it. Reptilian? Serpentine?

Why did Castiel insist on having any relationship at all with his family? At the other end of the table, the three Arch brothers were rumbling in deep growls at one another, speaking through teeth and sneering smiles. It was exhausting Sam, and he wasn’t even in the discussion.

Things were so different with Dean. There had been arguments over the years, no question. Huge, emotional blowouts, including the day Sam chose to accept the scholarship at Stanford.

Dean’s main argument had been that it was too far away. Everything he said led back to that, but he had said some stuff that had knocked Sam back on his heels. There had been angry tears, shouting, and ultimatums thrown around. But in the end, Dean had grown very quiet, had listened to everything Sam had to say, and simply replied in a defeated tone, “It’s just so far away, Sammy. What if you need me?” Because all the other words had been boiled down to the real concern, and Dean’s real concern was always that. What if Sam needed him?

Sam had smiled at him and replied wearily, “Then you’ll be there. We both know that. Stop acting like anything between California and Kansas could possibly keep you from being there for me if I needed you.” The decision had been made, and Dean had supported him every moment since then. Dean had always been, and would always be, the one thing Sam could count on, no matter what.

It was nothing like this sarcastic back-biting the Arch family seemed to thrive on. Even fights with John had always been about love and loyalty, and about being family, and what that meant. Winchesters never bothered to temper their discussions; everything was laid bare to the last nerve, so no one had to wonder what one of them was thinking, because he would have already said it, usually at the top of his voice. This conniving, scheming, quiet simpering among the Arch family made Sam feel like they were all being slowly boiled alive. The worst part was everyone pretending they weren’t, which only added to the surreality of the whole situation.

He nodded politely at Naomi, but glanced at his lover beside him. Those blue eyes Sam adored so much were fierce and icy. It made Sam flinch minutely, and he had to take a deep breath to center himself as he realized what had caused it.

He didn’t like what Castiel was when he was with his brothers.

Did Sam really want to marry into this farce of a family?

He nearly knocked Gabriel’s place setting over as he shot to his feet. “I’m sorry. I-I’ll be-Excuse me for just a moment.”

Every eye turned to stare at him, especially the three sets of ice blue ones belonging to the Arch brothers.

His mouth was too dry, and he stammered but couldn’t set himself in motion, until his cellphone rang out with AC/DC. He was both mortified and relieved, a combination he didn’t think he had ever felt before. “The phone,” he explained apologetically. “I have to take this. I’ll be just a minute.”

Sam could feel their gazes painting his back as he strode straight for the exit. He let the door slam closed behind him and gulped in several breaths before answering the phone.

“Dean, man, you called right at the perfect-“

“Sam? Kiddo, that you?”

He frowned with confusion. He blinked hard to focus. “Uncle Bobby? I mean...Bobby, why are you calling on Dean’s phone?”

The old family friend cleared his throat on the other line. “Needed to talk to you, and I ain’t got your number. You somewhere you can talk a minute?”

“Yeah, of course! Is everything okay? Bobby, anything you need-“

“It’s your brother.”

Sam froze. “What?”

“It-it ain’t what I need, boy. It’s your brother. He’s got himself hurt.”

His heart began pounding immediately. “Is he all right? What happened? I just talked to him a few hours ago! Bobby, what’s going on?”

“Let me get there. Look, it seems like he was driving all night. We don’t know yet if he mighta fell asleep or just didn’t see what was coming at him, or what.”

Tears were burning Sam’s eyes. “Is he all right? Bobby, is he okay?”

“Semi hit the car, kiddo. Was that guy’s fault, they’re dealing with it, but Dean didn’t manage to swerve or nothing.”

“Bobby,” he choked out.

The man cleared his throat again, as though he were also holding back tears. “Sheriff Mills called me because she knew I know the family, and nobody has your daddy’s contact anymore-“

“Is he all right?” he demanded in a sharp tone. He was absently aware that Castiel had come to check on him, and was frowning at the sound of panic in Sam’s voice.

“We...we don’t know yet, Sam. He’s in a bad way. It’s only been a few hours.”

Tears slipped past his defenses, and Castiel hurried to put his arm around him. “I don’t understand! He-he had just stopped for coffee! He had just talked to me! It doesn’t make any sense! It was daylight there by then! And that car-that car is steel, Bobby, it’s got a steel unibody-The-the chassis…”

“Sam, I’m sorry. No matter why it shouldn’t have happened, it did. Dean’s in intensive up at Memorial. I’m heading back and closing up the shop, and then going back there now. That’s all I know. I will tell you next thing I hear.”

“Bobby, is he...is Dean dying?”

The old man heaved a grim sigh. “Don’t know, Sam. But if you can get here...might be a good idea. Be careful, though. I can’t deal with both you boys getting yourselves hurt.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’m-I’ll figure out...I’ll be on my way as soon as I can. Please call me as soon as _you_ can.”

“Said I would. Take care, Sam.”

“Thank you, Bobby,” Sam breathed. “Thank you for being there for him.”

“You two are my boys,” he said simply. Then he coughed a little. “Might want to, you know, call Johnny.”

Sam’s trembling found strength in Castiel’s embrace. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured again. “Bye, Bobby.

“Bye, kid.”

Sam’s hands were shaking so badly that he dropped the phone to the sidewalk when he ended the call. Castiel was talking to him, trying to hold him, but he sat on his heels to grab his phone with a cry. A crack sliced its way through the glass, but it came on when he tried it. He let his knees rest on the ground. “Dean’s in the hospital,” he wheezed. “He’s-he’s been in a bad accident. They don’t know if he’s going to make it.” He looked up at Castiel, who was haloed by the sunlight. “If I broke my phone, I wouldn’t be able to...Cas, what am I going to do? I-I have to get to him!”

His lover nodded quickly. “Of course,” he said in that deep voice of his. “Come on.”

He took Castiel’s hand, but depended on the artist’s strength to pull him to his feet. He felt as though all his own strength had drained into the ground below. “This is all my fault, Cas,” he whimpered. “He was driving because of me!”

“Sam, no. Don’t go down that road, okay? Look, we will need to contact your professors, and the Dean, and get permission for you to take your exams late, and I need to tell my brothers what is going on. You take the car. I’ll get Gabe to drop me off after. Okay? Sam, are you okay to drive? You’ve got to get in contact with the Dean.”

The young man was shaking horribly now. “Gotta get in contact with Dean…” he repeated numbly.

Castiel’s hand was on his cheek, and when Sam looked up, warmth and concern had replaced the ice in the blue eyes. “Sam? The Dean. The Academics...You need to contact Academic Services, let them know what’s going on, and get permission for your exams to be postponed. Okay? Can you do this?”

Another hard blink brought back his focus. “Yeah. No, you’re right. Of course. I’ll call the Dean and leave a message, and email my advisor. I only have two exams left. The rest was just projects and papers. I’m...I’m so close to graduation, Cas! We both are! Dean won’t...I can’t do this without him!”

“Shh. Okay, go do what you can about your last two finals. I’ll talk to my family, and I’ll meet up with you right after, back at the apartment. We will pack, and I’ll get us tickets.”

He frowned. “Tickets?”

“Plane tickets. Sam, driving would take-Look, I’ll take care of it all. You just worry about your exams and taking your friend’s call when it comes in. I’ll get you to your brother.”

Tears flowed down his cheeks, but he couldn’t even feel them. “Thank you, angel.”

Castiel kissed him gently. “It’s all right.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket and handed them over. “Go. I love you.”

Sam rushed away from the worst Sunday brunch he had ever experienced, into the worst afternoon of his life so far.


	4. The Oldest Son

John Winchester loved his sons. All three. He had done his best for Dean and Sammy. His best had never been enough, but he had done it, long as he could. He could see Mary’s mischief in his oldest son, and hear her intelligence in Sammy’s voice, and it had worn him down over the years. He knew she would hate him for leaving them like he did. She would hate him for what he left them for. But he had a chance to do right by one son, at least, and he owed it to the kid to try.

He was doing his best for Adam now.

There had been a lot of things he had been forced to learn the hard way with his first family. Love wasn’t everything. It wasn’t even close. Neither was discipline, structure or a firm hand. Hard work and making money wasn’t enough. Not even all of those things put together was enough. John had learned that everything he had wasn’t enough. So he had tried to develop new ways of being there for Adam that he hadn’t been capable of for the older two boys. Ballgames, cookouts, and helping with homework were completely alien to him, but he was learning. Adam adored him for it, and Kate had finally begun to trust that his promises were good.

For what it was worth, John had taught Dean to be self-sufficient. He had never allowed John to help in any way, had stubbornly refused any gifts he sent. The kid wouldn’t even cash his damn checks. So he had gotten Sammy’s address at Stanford, and he sent him gift cards, tucked into notes that simply reminded him that if he needed anything, he could call. Dean could too. For what it was worth.

So when the phone buzzed in his pocket, and he saw his second son’s name light up on the screen, he stared at it in shock. Then he hurried to accept the call.

“Sammy?”

“It’s Sam.”

John swallowed hard. “Sam. It’s good to hear from you, son. You okay? You need help?”

“No. I don’t know. Listen, Dean…”

His heart was pounding suddenly, and he wasn’t even sure why. “Yeah?”

“Dean’s been hurt. Just...you should know. He’s been in an accident, and he’s hurt. I’ll let you know when I know more.”

“What kind of accident? Sam?”

“Impala got hit on the highway.”

John’s breath was shallow now. “But that car-Sam, that car is steel all the way through! That car-“

“Is at Bobby Singer’s place. What’s left of it.”

His head was swimming with images conjured by Sam’s words. “Where is Dean? Is he home? I know he won’t talk to me, but-“

“He’s at the hospital. Memorial. I’m heading there now. Don’t come, Dad. You can’t do anything to help. I just thought you deserved to know.”

A flare of anger rose up in him. “Don’t you tell me what to-“

“I can’t fight with you right now, Dad. I said I’d let you know when something changes. That’s the best I can do. I don’t have the energy to fight with you. About anything. Bye, Dad.”

“Sammy, don’t you hang up on…” He stared down at his silent, dark phone. Memorial. So Dean was in the hospital. And Bobby Singer knew it, but hadn’t called him! John’s Impala was sitting there junked at Singer’s, but Bobby hadn’t had the civility to call him to tell him. He ground his teeth.

There was hardly time to process all this information, let alone the emotions it conjured. The landline was ringing now. He frowned as he remembered that Kate and Adam were still out at church.

His irritation was plain in his voice when he answered. “Yeah?” he snapped.

“Hello. I’m looking for John Winchester.”

“You got him. What do you want?”

The voice on the other line was practically purring. “Mr. Winchester, my name is Michael Arch. I heard about your son’s accident, and I wanted to extend the sincerest concern from my family to yours.”

What the hell? So a perfect stranger knew about the whole thing before John had been told? “What are you, an ambulance chaser? I don’t know anything about how the accident happened. You trying to sue somebody?” He flinched suddenly. “You hoping to sue my son?”

“Hardly,” the man said with distaste. “I’m not an attorney, Mr. Winchester. I’m Castiel’s older brother.”

John had just about had enough. “Who the hell is that?”

There was a pause, then what sounded like a snort. “Ah. So you haven’t heard from Sam about his...partner.”

“Buddy, I got no idea what you’re talking about, and this is not the best time to be playing guessing games with me. For that matter, there is no good time for that. So if you have something to say, spit it out.”

Michael hummed thoughtfully. “Mr. Winchester, one busy man knows another. I wouldn’t dream of wasting your time, or my own. I had my assistant find your number so I could express my concern for your older son and his condition.”

Oldest, he didn’t say. Oldest of three, not older of two.

“From what my assistant could gather with some phone calls on my behalf, and what little my brother has told me about the situation, it sounds as though Dean is in critical condition, and that even if he pulls through, he will need some quite expensive treatments in order to recover.”

John swallowed with difficulty. “If he pulls through?” he murmured.

“Now, I’ve told my assistant to go personally to the hospital and make it perfectly clear that the Arch family is happy to help with anything the boy needs, financially speaking. I know he doesn’t have much of his own.”

“Who-who did you say you were again?”

“Well, we are practically in-laws, Mr. Winchester! My brother has informed me just this morning that he and Sam have gotten engaged.”

“Engaged. What does that mean?”

Michael laughed brightly. “Well, that they’re getting married, of course.”

John’s lips parted, and his mouth fell open. “You trying to tell me...Sam’s engaged...to a man? My Sam?”

“Isn’t it wonderful? But of course the news came alongside the news of Dean’s accident, so we weren’t really able to celebrate. I just thought it was the right thing to do to call you and express our sympathy. Since we are practically family.”

John rubbed absently at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Yeah, good.”

“Mr. Winchester...May I call you John?”

“Yeah, fine. John.”

“John, don’t you worry about a thing. My assistant will see to it that your son gets the best care he could possibly receive.”

At last, John’s instincts nudged him, and he narrowed his eyes. “And why is that?”

“Like I said, we’re all family.”

“I don’t know you from Adam, buddy.”

There was that light laugh again, but John detected a sinister note this time. “I’m Michael Arch. My father is Carver Arch.”

His eyes widened again. “Carver Arch? The-the billionaire?”

Michael sniffed. “The philanthropist. He’s retired.”

“Let me get this straight. My oldest son is in the hospital in critical condition after totaling a car I bought before I married his mother. His kid brother is dating a guy, and that guy is the son of Carver freaking Arch. And they’re getting married.”

“So it would seem.”

“What the hell!”

“John, can I be honest with you?”

“That would be appreciated!” he barked.

Michael snorted again. “You seem like a smart man. And you know Dean doesn’t have the money to afford the treatment he’s getting now, let alone what he may need if he makes it through the night.”

He flinched, and dropped into the kitchen chair.

“Sam is a good man. He’s graduating at the end of this month, and he doesn’t need this burden. He’s talking about law school. How will he be able to do that if he’s too busy caring for his brother and swimming in debt?”

John closed his eyes. “I’m listening.”

“As much as we are all delighted for dear Castiel, perhaps now isn’t the best time for a wedding. With everything on Sam’s plate.”

Weary eyes opened again, and a sick feeling came over John, as he realized where this was going. “What are you suggesting?” he sighed.

“It just occurs to me that you and Sam, and poor Dean, don’t have to be burdened with the ugly financial side of things while also dealing with the emotional stress. You should be able to focus on what’s truly important. Family.”

John shook his head, and dragged his free hand down his face. “Thought we were all family here.”

“Of course we are. We adore Sam. But perhaps if he had enough financial security to see him through this crisis, and didn’t have to worry about paying a dime to the hospital in this difficult time, perhaps he might decide he doesn’t need to hurry into a marriage with my brother. He could always return to that idea down the road. For now, he should really focus on the immediate situation. And you, of course.”

He swallowed again. “You gonna pay me to get Sam to leave your brother alone?”

“John, that sounds so-“

“Accurate?”

Michael snickered. “We aren’t men who need to waste one another’s time,” he noted. “I’ll see to Dean’s financials, and provide a healthy sum for you and Sam, which should enable you the freedom to do as you please. You simply concern yourselves with your own family, while I see to mine.”

Mary would hate him for this. But she could just add it all to her list. “How healthy is healthy?”

The man hummed again, with satisfaction.


	5. Bad Faith

It had been a long time since Castiel had thrown his money around. Aside from his volunteer trips, tuition, clothing, music and art supplies, he rarely spent anything at all.

The last time he had spent a large chunk of money had been his car, and he had been angry with his brothers at the time. He thought of the Camaro as his getaway car, because he had bought it as a means of escaping a family gathering years ago. He had slipped out of Lowell on 63rd into a cab, and grabbed up the last available room at The Bowery Hotel straight down 2nd Avenue. The next morning, he had taken a cab off the island entirely, to a dealership in Queens, and had fallen in love with the garnet red tintcoat Camero ZL1 in the showroom, which would enable him to get out of New York on his own. The salesperson had snorted at him, in his jeans and hoodie, but that had ended quickly, when he had produced fifty grand in cash, which the accounting department had marked up with counterfeit pens in futility. It had been an unnecessary indulgence; any car would have done the job. But he loved it.

This time it was a getaway flight.

“Cas, seriously, how much is this costing you? I can’t let you do this.”

He smiled grimly. “Sam, stop. I told you. I don’t want you worrying about that. If I told you what it cost, you’d hyperventilate. Don’t think about it.”

His fiancé’s eyes were rimmed in red. It was hurting the artist’s chest just to look at him.

He returned his gaze to the road.

“I...I don’t want…”

“Sam, it’s done. I couldn’t get my money back now. So please don’t think about it.”

Sam’s voice was soft, cautious. “Cas, the last thing Dean and I discussed before-before he left yesterday was...I don’t want to owe you money, okay? It can’t be like that between us. I’ll resent it.”

Castiel frowned, but continued through the gates of the small airport, and shifted gears without giving in to the temptation to glance at Sam’s face again. “Why would you owe me? Sam, I’m choosing to do this. I want to do this. It’s my money, not Mike’s or my dad’s or-“

“If you don’t tell me what it cost you, I’m going to look it up online and calculate an estimate.”

He sighed. “A light jet charters for a couple thousand dollars an hour. I’ve reserved it for four hours. We will fly back on a commercial flight, in business class, when you’re ready. So another seven hundred there, probably.”

Castiel found it unnecessary to add that he had also paid for the empty flight of the jet back to its home without them, doubling the cost. He had a feeling Sam wouldn’t think of that himself, and mentioning it wouldn’t help anything. The focus right now should really be on getting the brothers together. If Sam missed the opportunity to say goodbye to his brother because Castiel didn’t flex every muscle he had to get him there, he would never be able to look his lover in the eyes again.

He hoped desperately that they weren’t simply arriving to say goodbye. He knew a large portion of Sam’s happiness hinged on his relationship with his brother. Part of his brain continued to churn out a storm of ideas about how else he could possibly help this story end happily. So far, getting Sam to Dean was the only real role he could play, so he was going to do that as quickly as possible, and with as much comfort as possible. The next commercial flight to anyplace remotely near Lawrence, Kansas would have them arriving three days from then, meaning they could have driven the route several times. Sam needed to be there now.

Sam’s face was going from chalk gray to a jaundiced green. “So you’re spending more than I made at the restaurant, working part-time all of last year, on one trip.”

That was probably accurate, though Castiel wasn’t entirely aware of how much-or how little-Sam made at the restaurant.

“How can I not feel like...Cas, that’s a debt I could never repay! And that’s just getting me there and back!”

Castiel parked the car in the private garage, and turned to him at last. “Sam? You’re going to be my husband. My money will be your money. Stop thinking of this as a debt owed. Look, I’m getting on this flight to go see your brother. I’m inviting you to come with me. I could sweeten the offer by promising you plenty of expensive booze on the way, but I think you’ll be more interested in the private hot shower and a few hours of good sleep.”

Sam looked utterly defeated. It was making Castiel ache the way the man kept agonizing about this.

“Sam, please. It’s all I can do. Get you there, and help you rest on the way. Please. Let me do this without…”

Finally, his lover tried a smile. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you. It’s extremely generous.”

Castiel’s chest was tight. “Sam, it’s not…It isn’t generosity between us. Okay? It’s just choosing when to utilize our money in the way that makes the most sense during a crisis. The money is there. For both of us. And there’s nothing more important than getting you to your brother. I’m just glad there’s something I can do to help.”

Sam nodded slowly. “You called it our money.”

He shrugged. “It will be, won’t it? I already think of it that way. I asked you to marry me this weekend, and you said yes.”

“That was before…”

The tightening of his chest cut off his airway when he flinched. “Before?” he rasped out.

Sam’s head shook, and he closed his eyes briefly. “No. I’m sorry. You’re right. Let’s just go.”

Castiel could hear his own heart pounding relentlessly. “Sam, you’re not changing your mind, are you? You still want to get married? To me?”

The smile was weak, and Sam looked sick. “Of course not. Not-not changing my mind, I mean. Come on. I’ve got to be with him. I can’t think of anything else right now.”

He swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Within twenty-five minutes, they were boarded. Sam collapsed into his seat and stared grimly out the window while Castiel spoke to the pilot, then the attendant. It had been a long time since he had gone jet-setting himself, since he disliked the guilt associated with the expense, both in terms of the waste of money and the environmental cost. But he remembered well enough how to go about it all. He made a mental note to make a proportional donation to Earthjustice to offset his footprint, and took his seat across from Sam.

Sam immediately opened his laptop. “I have to finish my exam. For commercial lit.”

Castiel smiled wearily. “Before hanging out with you, I would assume that lit meant literary or literature.”

“Litigation,” Sam corrected without looking up.

“Yes. I get that now.”

“It won’t take me long. Mostly breach of contract and class action stuff. A few torts, some bad faith…”

He lay his head back against his seat and watched out the window as the jet began rolling. “No bad faith,” he mumbled. “Only weak faith.”

Sam tapped on his keyboard for a moment, then stopped to look at him. “What did you say?”

Castiel shrugged. “What?”

“Bad faith. You said…”

“I don’t know. It’s...Bad faith refers to entering into a promise you don’t intend to keep. Right?”

Sam was staring at him.

“But if that person believed in what the promise really represented, he wouldn’t break his own word. That person didn’t have bad faith. He had weak faith. If you believe in what a promise is about, you either support it or you don’t. Someone who would pretend to support a promise when he doesn’t really believe in it...I think that’s weak faith.”

Intelligent, hazel eyes watched him with intensity Castiel didn’t really feel was necessary. “Well...this is contract law. It’s a little different.”

“A contract isn’t a promise?”

“A promise isn’t a contract.”

“It should be. If you promise someone something, it should be a contract, shouldn’t it?”

Sam took a deep breath. “I’m not sure what you mean by weak faith.”

He smiled finally. “Neither am I. I guess my mind is in a hundred different places right now. Sorry.” He laughed. “But I bet somebody could write a punk rock song about it.”

“Yeah…”

“What? No snark about how most of punk rock doesn’t make sense either?”

His lover blinked slowly. “Changing your mind after the fact isn’t the same thing as acting in bad faith up front.”

“You shouldn’t promise something if you don’t mean it.”

The plane was leaving the ground. Castiel loved that moment, when the wheels were no longer touching the ground. In another life, perhaps he might have made a decent pilot.

But Sam was focused entirely on him. “If you believe in something, but then you’re exposed to new information regarding your decision, you can absolutely change your mind. That’s not bad faith. That’s bad intelligence!”

Castiel shrugged again. He wasn’t sure why they were still discussing this, but if it kept Sam’s mind off his brother for a little while, he didn’t mind losing a legal debate. “I didn’t say it was bad faith. I said it was weak faith. That was the premise of my argument. If you can change your mind, your faith in the promise wasn’t that strong to begin with. Now, maybe that’s because of bad intelligence. But the result is weak faith.”

“That’s not...what that means…”

“Maybe not when you’re talking about breaches of contract-“

“Breach of contract is totally different! That’s-I mean, it could be the same, but not necessarily! Bad faith means one party never intended to go through with the contract! Not being able to continue a contract to its stated completion isn’t the same thing as never intending to!”

He began to frown now. “Sam, I’m sorry. I think you’re taking this too seriously. I don’t know why I said it. I don’t even know what we’re talking about.”

“Someone who plans to fulfill his end of an agreement, but then realizes he shouldn’t have made the deal in the first place-“

“Sam, stop! I’m sorry! I thought maybe debating would get your mind off-“

“It doesn’t have to do with a person’s original intention, or even their commitment to the original agreement! Not if he learns more about the other party and no longer feels that same level of faith!”

“What are we talking about? Is this somehow about Dean? I don’t know what-“

Sam burst into tears suddenly.

Castiel nearly leapt from his seat. “Sam! What did I say? What can I do?”

“I have to take my exam,” he cried. “Just-just let me get this over with.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. Sam, whatever I said…”

The large man shook his head and swiped at his tears. “No. I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I’m just so worried about Dean. I can’t think about anything else. Not rationally. I need to finish my test, and then I’ll feel better. Most of it is done. I need to log back in. It will take maybe twenty-five minutes from here, okay? Order a glass of wine or something.”

He hadn’t wanted one before, but something about Sam’s tone made him think maybe he did now. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll get a bottle of Merlot in case you want to share it when you’re done.” He smiled weakly. “And if not, I’ll probably just finish it on my own. It’s been that kind of weekend.”

Sam lowered his gaze to his laptop, and was quiet while Castiel gestured to the attendant and received his bottle and glasses. Finally, he cleared his throat. “So Luke drinks. A lot.”

Castiel watched the wine splash into his glass. “Always has.”

“Michael and Gabe too. Your dad?”

“A functional alcoholic. Likes his whiskey. Sam, what is this about?”

“Nothing. I’m going to finish my test.”

Castiel watched him for another long moment, then cleared his throat, and stood. “I’m going to chat with the pilot. If you need anything, just-“

“I won’t.”

He nodded slowly. Sam never asked for anything. Never, not from anyone. If it weren’t for Castiel’s insistence, Sam would have driven himself all the way to Kansas. There was really nothing he could do for Sam that he couldn’t do for himself. Arch money meant nothing to a man whose only needs were met by a devoted big brother and his own intelligence and work ethic. Castiel had told Dean just this weekend that he would use everything he had to win and keep Sam. Beyond money, what did he really have to offer?

“If not the money, Castiel, then what? Honestly.”

He closed his eyes tightly against the words his brothers had spoken just that morning.

“Cassie,” Luke had sneered. “Look at it this way. If you went broke, you’d be completely lost. If he did, he would still be exactly who he is.”

Michael had lifted his eyebrow. “Exactly. What are you without your money? An art student without any prospects.”

Luke agreed. “You’re a good kid, Cas. But that’s it. What’s in it for him? Other than your accounts?”

“What’s in it for him?” Michael had repeated. “Are you worth so much that you’ll never have to wonder what you’re worth without it?”

Maybe Michael was right. Maybe it wasn’t that Sam was there for the money. He hadn’t even known about the money. It was just that Sam didn’t need it, and Castiel had nothing else to offer. The only thing Sam truly needed was lying unconscious in a hospital bed at the end of this trip. Castiel didn’t even come close.


	6. Snakes and Phones and Broken Bones

After a few hours, Castiel had headed to the hotel to get some sleep. Sam had started to tell him it was a waste of money to get a room when he had a key to Dean’s place, but that sounded stupid in his own head considering they had arrived on a chartered jet. He didn’t like this casual use of money. It made his stomach churn. But it was Castiel’s money, after all, and it had gotten him to his brother in the fastest, most comfortable way possible. It wasn’t right. But he had bigger things to worry about right then. 

Bigger things. The biggest things. 

Dean was gray. He looked like a wax figure of himself, a gravel-colored shell over a breathing form. Sam touched his cheek now and then to feel the warmth beneath his hand, to remind himself it wasn’t too late yet. 

“You hate needles,” he sighed after an indeterminate bout of silence. He looked away from the IV. “I hate this,” he added for no reason. “I hate seeing you like this, man.” 

When it got to be too much again, when he felt like he would tear out of his own skin with the waiting and watching, he would creep through the maze down to the coffee vending machine again. For now, he just stared at his brother’s face and suffocated in the quiet. 

“Hey,” he said at last. “Remember the time Dad came home with those snakes? Thought we’d like them. He found them in his truck bed after his trip, remember? And I took one look, and they were definitely copperheads. Dad said no, they were water snakes. And you looked at us like we were both crazy and said it didn’t matter, that anything that scared Indiana Jones was not coming into our house.” 

He gave a weary chuckle at the memory. 

“For the record, they were absolutely copperheads, and Dad’s lucky neither of them sunk into him, or us. But you. You hate needles, and you hate snakes, and you hate planes. But other than that, you’re entirely fearless, aren’t you? When I was a kid, I figured you were as close to Indiana Jones as a real person could get. You even took me all over looking for treasure. Something to do instead of finding trouble. I think we saw every inch of every forest we got near, and you always said one day we would find something valuable.”

He swallowed hard. The two of them had ended up in Colorado for three weeks one summer, while John had done a few local trucking runs, before returning to his long hauls. Dean and Sam had camped in a state forest while John did his work. It had been total freedom, as far as Sam was concerned. He learned later that John had not given them enough cash to get them through three weeks, and Dean had ended up stealing packs from the gas stop nearby, to sell one cigarette at a time to the local guys, but Sam hadn’t known that back then. All he knew was that Dean always had peanut butter and bread, and sometimes a few sodas, and they fished and swam in the lake, and stared up at the stars and everything was perfect. He was completely safe so long as Dean was there. Nothing could touch him while Dean was looking out for him. 

“Remember digging for gold in Colorado?” Sam leaned toward his brother’s still body, and sighed. “You said that was the best chance we had to find real treasure. Best chance...You said something to me this weekend, and I didn’t hear you at the time. It stuck in my head, though, till I thought of it earlier today. You said I’m not poor trash. Me. I said we aren’t, and you corrected me and said I’m not. Means you think you’re trash. You’re not trash, Dean. You’re my big brother.”

His phone was ringing again, but he just didn’t have the energy to talk to John right then. He didn’t want to talk to anyone who wasn’t Dean. 

“Dad’s calling again. Third time tonight. I told him to back off, that I’d let him know when something changed. Know what he said last time we spoke? How are we paying for all this? That’s what he wants to know. If we’re going to end up asking him for money. I told him not to worry about it, that I’d figure it all out, without his help. And I hung up while he was trying to say he didn’t mean it like that. I don’t care how he meant it.”

He clawed his hand through his hair. 

Sam’s stomach grumbled, but he ignored it. He was afraid he would throw up if he ate anything anyway, and he didn’t have much cash on him. What he did have, he wasn’t about to spend on vending machine junk. 

And he was not going to ask Castiel. 

“When did things get complicated?” he murmured. “Dad’s always been...Dad. But Cas...You saw him. You saw what I see, how good he is. He’s someone you can respect, and he loves me. But I can see now what you saw first, that the money is going to be a problem between us. When he’s with his brothers...He becomes this petty, sarcastic...I don’t know. It’s like all the depth I know is there gets walled off, and he’s shallow like the rest of them. Cas has power you and I never dreamed of, and he knows how to use it, just like they can. Maybe Mike and Luke are older, and they’ve been at this longer, but Cas...Cas isn’t immune to it. He’s just as capable of letting the power get to his head as they are. The only difference is that he knows it. He’s smart enough and cares enough to see it in himself, and he does his best to keep from being that way, but what if that fades over time? What if he gets comfortable with it? God, Dean, I need you.”

The tube hanging from Dean lips was as still as ever. Bruises marred his good looks all down the left side of his face, and there was a bandage over his temple where they had taken out a large shard of glass from his skull. His hands had been cleaned up, like the rest of him, but there was still dried blood beneath the nails. His collar bone was bandaged too, and Sam didn’t want to see why his left leg was being supported like that. 

“Mr. Winchester? Sam?”

He looked up wearily. “Yeah.”

The nurse gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry to have to do this, but could we talk about your paperwork? I know it’s late, but since you’re here…”

The man lifted himself with great effort. “Yeah,” he murmured again. “Sorry, I’ve never done this before. Did I make a mistake?”

She shook her head slowly. “Not exactly. But...it would be easier to show you.”

For the next twenty minutes, Sam, who had always excelled in math, stared in horror at pages of numbers, none of which made a bit of sense to him. He felt a sob in his throat, and choked it down. “I-I don’t understand. He doesn’t-I know he doesn’t have life insurance, but-but I thought the health coverage...Is this...This is just from yesterday? Where-Okay. What about today? And-and it’s practically midnight, so what about tomorrow? I don’t understand how it could possibly be this much already...They don’t even know…” At last, the sob forced its way out, and his voice broke. “They don’t even know if he’s going to make it!”

The nurse sighed, and put the clipboard away. “It’s okay, Sam. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. They’re going to want...If there isn’t any major improvements by tomorrow, they’re going to want to talk to you about...you know, possible arrangements. Organ donation, that sort of thing.”

He blinked at her through tears and a rising panic. “Organs? What-what organs does he need? Is it something I can give him?”

Her pretty face softened into a cringe. “No, Sam. I mean…”

A jagged breath escaped his lips. “Oh. Right. No, I get it. I can’t-Okay. Just...Not now. Okay? Is that all right? He’s ten feet away, and-and I think he’s going to be fine. You know? You don’t know how strong he is. Nobody knows, not like I do. He’s going to be okay. He is.”

She nodded at him. “Sure. I just wanted to warn you that these conversations, about money, about arrangements, they’re coming for you in the morning, so you might want to take some time to think about what you want to do.”

He stared at his brother through the doorway, and found that he could not reply.


	7. Full Circle

One of the nurses was on her phone when Castiel entered the reception area. It was nearly one o’clock, and Sam had not called or texted him to be picked up in the rental car, and he wasn’t answering his phone either. The poor man had probably fallen asleep on the couch by Dean’s bed. He wanted at least to be sure he was as comfortable as he could be, considering the circumstances. 

The artist had tried Dean’s home address first. He had known it was the home Sam had grown up in, and he had known the boys had come up hard. But he felt his stomach lurch as he pulled the rental car into the dirt driveway. 

The house was a single story ranch, with patchwork boarding that looked like it was covering weather damage on one side. In fact, he could see the layers of repair work, like tree rings, dating back many, many years, all over the place. He slipped out of the car, and walked silently around the dark property. 

There was a tire swing hanging from a huge tree in the backyard. Castiel smiled at it sadly, thinking of Sam lying in it, reading a book or staring up at the clouds in the sky, as a child. He could see the remains of a tool shed that had clearly not stood a chance against the elements of rural Kansas. The roof of the house badly needed replacing, and he noted several shingles of various ages which had been replaced one at a time. 

The windows of the old house were foggy and yellowed, but he could see the state of the house inside. With a frown, he crept to the back door, and turned the knob. Sure enough, though the knob remained locked, the door opened anyway with just a little pull. He sighed, and stepped into the home, and flicked at the light switch with long fingers. 

The house was immaculately clean, but mostly empty inside. 

Castiel’s chest was beginning to hurt. 

He walked through the outdated kitchen. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, but a cup, a plate, two bowls and a few spoons were on a drying rack on the counter. Opening the refrigerator revealed a sorry lack of supplies. Four beers from a six pack shared space with condiment packets from fast food takeout places. There was some type of leftover homemade soup still in the pot, covered, waiting. The bin had packages of cut meats and cheeses for sandwiches, a red pepper going soft sat above the beer, and there was ground beef in the small freezer. Beside that was a container, marked in crisp permanent marker, “Sam’s veggie lasagna,” which made him smile. The pantry showed a variety of canned soups, potatoes with growth sprouting, whole onions flaking badly, and bags of tortilla chips to go with the jars of salsa next to them. 

Castiel sighed, and closed it back up. He turned to look at the sad state of the furniture in the living room, some of which was likely as old as Sam himself. The small table outside the kitchen had bills scattered across it, and a notebook and pen at the center of it all. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at these things, but he couldn’t keep himself from peeking. Dean’s sharp handwriting had detailed which of the bills were paid and which were late, and one which was circled twice with the words “Find way to pay now!” screaming angrily in red ink. Castiel touched the paper gently. He could see the grooves of the drawn circle, the way the pen had scrawled an indention into the paper. 

The artist took in a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and let his fingertips brush around the circle very slowly, let his nails scratch at it. He could feel the frustration Dean had felt as he circled the figure, the shame that had caused him to press too hard into the paper, the sharp, disgusted way he had written the command to himself to pay off the sum. 

Tears came to his eyes, and he blinked them away. He looked down at the notebook again, and took in the scene as Dean would. He sat where Dean would sit, and touched the pen gently. He felt what Dean would feel there in that chair. His blue gaze drifted over the papers, until he understood. 

The circled sum was the back pay on a loan he had taken to pay off a much larger debt. From what Castiel could learn at a glance, from Dean’s notes, every penny of Dean’s income went to these bills, and it wasn’t enough. He could see a meticulous breakdown of three lines of income, and he realized that Dean worked more than one job at all times. But it was also clear immediately that he did not have a chance at catching up with the burden of debt he was under. A fourth column showed the records of household items he had managed to sell in the past few months, explaining the hollow house. 

Hadn’t this man smiled as if he had not a problem in the world just days ago? Hadn’t he grinned and winked at Castiel while the artist mingled with those who might influence his career? Hadn’t his eyes gone soft each time he saw Sam laugh? Hadn’t he shrugged carelessly when they had asked him to stay, and returned to his car with a saunter that told them he was content and happy as he could possibly be?

Hadn’t he?

Castiel had no right to look at these private papers. But he did. It was important somehow, imperative even, that he truly understand Dean’s emotional state. Somehow, loving Sam demanded that he know this. 

And there it was. 

“Child support,” he breathed aloud. “For John’s other son. John took out a mortgage on the house to pay off a loan he used to pay years of back child support for Adam. He used Sam’s college fund, but it wasn’t nearly enough to cover the mortgage. The house isn’t worth nearly this amount. He...he left Dean with a mortgage on a home he would never be able to sell or repair. Trapped. Dean is trapped here, paying off this house, because his father was supporting that other family. And he never told Sam.”

The circled writing glared at him. The artist swallowed. Below the command to pay up, three other sentences greeted Dean when he looked at his notebook. 

“Till this is paid off, you can’t support Sam if things go sideways on him. Till this is paid off, you can’t marry Lisa. Whatever it takes.”

Castiel winced. 

He had come to find out if Sam had gone home, since it was on the way to the hospital. Now he was walking into the reception area of the hospital, and he had not been able to swallow the grief he felt in his throat yet. So the fact that the night nurse was talking on her cell phone was just as well. Castiel wasn’t sure he was ready to speak yet anyway. 

Very slowly, the artist became aware of the woman’s voice. She was turned away from him, but he had caught the name. “Yes, I did. I told him exactly what you told me to say. Look, I appreciate the transfer to my PayPal, buddy, but I did what you wanted and now I want you to leave me alone. Your boss wants me to harass this guy...Look, Sam is a good man, okay? I was a year ahead of him back in high school, and he was always a nice guy. I don’t think he remembered me. But I remember him. And I don’t like...I’m not pushing him any more tonight. His brother might be dying, okay? What kind of game is this for your boss anyway?”

Castiel stared at her back. 

“You know what? It’s a really sick guy who can pay somebody to pressure a college kid about money when his only family is dying. I’m not doing any more than I already have. He gets it. The debt is going to be awful. But he doesn’t have to pay it right away, and I’m not going to make him think he has to just so he can go running to your boss for the money. That’s it, isn’t it? Your boss wants him to have to ask for-Screw you, okay? This is mafia-level bullshit manipulation. I’m hanging up now.”

A disorienting thudding sound beat out for several seconds before Castiel realized it was his own heartbeat. He had to try twice to make his voice operate. “Ex...excuse me. Did you just...Was the man you were just talking to...Was his name Zachariah?”

The woman watched him suspiciously. “You know that douche?”

His mouth was dry and his eyes were burning. “Unfortunately. He works for my brother.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Look. Like I told him, I shouldn’t have let him talk me into it in the first place. Trying to make Sam take a loan with him, I guess, put him in a bad place. I’m no angel, but-“

“What’s your name?” he asked quietly. 

“Meg Masters. Tell your guy to leave me alone, and he ought to leave the Winchester boys alone too.”

A spark of fury lit behind his eyes, instantly drying the tears of betrayal. He sneered at her. “Believe me, I’ll tell him.”


	8. The Right Thing

Sam awoke to the sound of plastic crinkling. He lifted his head from where it lay on the side of Dean’s hospital bed, near his arm, and blinked away the fog. 

His artist was there beside him. It was immediately a relief, just to see the man, to feel him nearby. He smiled up at him. “Cas? Angel, how long was I asleep? How long have you been here?”

Castiel finished unwrapping the sandwich, and handed it over. “I convinced them to let me in to sit with you about an hour ago. I’m not family, but sometimes rules are flexible.” He shrugged. “I waited a while, but I wanted to be sure you ate something.”

Sam’s stomach grumbled in appreciation. “Thank you. I didn’t leave the room except to grab coffee and find a bathroom. Didn’t realize how hungry I’ve gotten.” He spoke around his bite. “Time is it?”

“Two. I figured I wouldn’t be able to talk you into coming to the hotel for a few hours of sleep. But if I got a veggie hero, I could make you eat at least.”

He snickered. “A sub, Cas.”

“What?”

“It’s a veggie sub.”

“That’s what I said.”

He let it go. Castiel had grown up on two coasts, with a home in New York and one in Los Angeles. He had spent childhood summers in Connecticut. Sam had learned that, in Castiel’s mind, a hot sandwich was a grinder, and a cold one was a hero. Little quirks like these were always amusing and endearing to Sam. 

“Sam? Can I convince you to move to the couch? I know you won’t leave him. But you should at least try to rest.”

Sam stood shakily, and stretched his sore muscles. He trudged to the small couch, and dropped into it. “You’re right. They’re going to do another surgery in the morning, first thing. I’ll go to the hotel and shower then. Staying here while he’s in surgery will just make me crazy.”

Castiel nodded, and sat beside him cautiously. “Are you all right?”

He stared at the still form of his brother as he ate. “Yeah. As much as I can be. I’m trying to figure out what’s next, what I need to prepare for, like the practical stuff, you know? It’s overwhelming.”

“Like the bills,” Castiel said quietly. 

“Yeah. It’s really hard to think about all that while in the middle of it. But-but I think I have to figure it out quickly. The hospital admin want some answers about how I’m paying for all this, and they want to know now. I just don’t know. But I have to find a way to handle it. I can’t let them give up on Dean.”

Castiel flinched violently. “Is that what they told you? That if you didn’t pay it off right now, they wouldn’t treat Dean anymore?”

Sam continued to stare at his brother numbly. “I can’t let them give up on him. He’s still in there, Cas. I can feel it. In my heart, I know it. And anyway, he would never give up on me.” He took a deep breath. “Michael called me.”

The artist sat ramrod straight, as though he had been electrocuted. “He did what?”

“Called the hospital, got Dean’s room number, called me here. He...he offered to pay for the medical bills. So they could keep treating Dean.”

He could see Castiel’s shock from the corner of his eyes. “When did he do this?” he snarled. 

Sam glanced at him. “After midnight. He said he felt bad about the way they treated me and wanted to help somehow.”

“In exchange for what?”

He blinked at him. “Nothing. He just said he would pay for the medical bills. That he wanted to do it. I wasn’t really thinking straight. The nurse had just shown me all the expenses, and I realized I wasn’t going to be able to make the payments in time to keep them treating Dean, and…”

“Sam?”

“I said yes. I’ll pay him back!”

Castiel’s eyes closed. 

Sam felt the numbness fading, and the pain returning. He set the rest of the sandwich aside. “I had to do something. I knew you wouldn’t want it, that Dean would hate it if he knew. But I’ll find a way to pay him back. I just needed the money up front, then I can worry about paying it back somehow.”

“Sam, why wouldn’t you talk to me first?” The blue eyes remained shut, as if he couldn’t bring himself to look at his lover. 

Two tears slipped past Sam’s lashes. “It happened fast. I was so sick over Dean, and still trying to understand the treatment, the surgeries, and then they started to talk about payments, and I couldn’t let him down. He’s going to make it, Cas. He is. I’ve just got to give him a chance to fight. Whatever it takes.”

Castiel’s eyes opened at last, and he stared at Sam. “That...that’s been your whole life, hasn’t it?” he breathed. “Whatever it takes. Always keep fighting, no matter what it takes.”

“Cas-“

“No. You will not take money from Mike. You will not answer any communication from him. And I will be the one to do whatever it takes this time.”

Sam’s heart was pounding. He felt a need to run battling against his exhaustion. Dean had seen this coming, he realized. Owing Castiel. It would tear them apart and yet trap him in. “No…” It was a moan, a defeated, grieving sound. It was too late. Events were happening around him. It was all set in motion. To save Dean, he had to lose the most beautiful part of his life, the innocent love he had shared with Castiel. If it saved his brother, if they could just keep treating him until his own fight could begin, it would all be worth it. But, god, would it hurt! 

Castiel clutched his hands suddenly. “Sam? My love, listen to me. Can you listen to me?”

He nodded miserably. 

“We will use our money to help Dean. Because that’s the right thing to do. But, sweetheart, the hospital will not stop trying to save him because you can’t pay right away. Okay? Think clearly for a moment. You know that’s true.”

Some of the fog of grief lifted slowly, and Sam began to nod. “But she said…”

“Forget that. She was wrong. Okay? Dean will get every chance, and not because I’m going to take care of the expenses. It has nothing to do with that, all right? I’m going to make things easier for later. But that isn’t what will make a difference as to whether Dean makes it through this. I need you to understand that.”

Sam swallowed his panic down. “Yeah. Because they’re not going to cut him off.”

“No, my love. They’re not. Someone was using your emotions, your love and fear for your brother, to manipulate you. Think back. Michael didn’t offer this for free. What did he say you had to do?”

Fresh tears sprang from his eyes now, as the conversation flooded back to him. “He wanted me to leave you, Cas. Wanted me to-“ A sob choked him, and he forced through it. “Wanted me to back off, and-and…”

He could see the fury boiling inside his artist, but the hands were firm and the voice was steady. “And you are going to make any decisions about your life free of blackmail attempts by those I used to think of as family. You are my family, Sam. If you decide you don’t want to marry me, you don’t. Any money I spend here, for you or Dean, is truly with no strings attached. I’m doing it because it is the right thing to do.”

He lifted his eyes to search desperately for truth in Castiel’s. 

“You know me, Sam. Please. You know me. If I can help someone, won’t I? If helping someone is the right thing to do, won’t I?” 

There was a desperation in Castiel’s tone too, Sam realized. He badly wanted Sam to see this part of him, the part which gave up comforts to focus on other people’s pain. Sam began to smile through his tears. “Yeah,” he breathed. “You will.”

Relief was plain on Castiel’s handsome face. The man had forgone his piercings and guy-liner, and his hair was left natural, fighting against physics as it did whenever he didn’t add any product to it. Sam loved seeing him this way. It was the way only Sam got to see him, and it reminded him of the way Castiel looked after they made love. 

He sniffed. “I love you, Angel.”

His artist shivered a little at the pet name. “I love you, Sam. Do you think you still want to get married? To-“

“To you,” he confirmed. “Yeah. But I want Dean to be there for it.”

Castiel smiled softly. “Whatever it takes,” he promised.


	9. Close Your Eyes, Dean

Drunk. 

He was drunk. Why had he been drinking? He had promised himself he wouldn’t touch liquor again until he had paid off…

But obviously he had screwed up. He couldn’t even move. His head throbbed in pain, and the sick feeling in his stomach assured him that on the other side of his eyelids was a spinning ceiling. And it felt like he had something in his mouth, but couldn’t make himself spit it out. He couldn’t move at all. 

God. What was wrong with him? Beer wouldn’t have done this. It had to have been tequila. What the hell had he been thinking? Spending money on liquor, when he couldn’t even pay his bills-Was he really that stupid? It was just as well that he couldn’t move. He would get up and stumble into the bathroom and have to face himself in the mirror. 

He was letting down Sam with every stupid mistake like this. He was letting down Lisa and Ben every time he screwed up. 

God, he was such a screwup. 

Very slowly, he tried opening his eyes into tiny slits. One eye just didn’t bother. The other obeyed, but pain shot through his head when bright white light seeped in to assault him, so he closed it again. 

Had he ever been so hungover? He deserved this. This was the punishment he had earned by going back on his silent promise. 

He hoped he had at least won a few dollars at pool to offset the bar tab. 

There were voices nearby, he realized. He wanted to ask why he had something in his mouth, why he couldn’t spit it out. But he couldn’t move any muscle except that one eyelid, and he sure as hell wasn’t doing that again. 

Disembodied voices floated to him like on warped vinyl. It hurt his head to try to understand them, but at last, his brain forced him to translate the sounds into words. 

“And if you ever, I mean ever, contact him again, in any way, I will have a restraining order…”

“Bobby, I said I don’t know. Okay? Look, Cas is on his phone with his brother across the room. I can’t focus on two conversations. They said the surgery went well, but honestly-“

“Don’t test me, Michael. You don’t know me as well as you think you do. You and Luke are your own problems now. Each other’s problems. The only brother I’ve got is lying here in a hospital bed, and I will not let you come near him or Sam. Do not make me tell you again.”

“No, I can handle Dad. He threatened to come down here, but I know Dean doesn’t want that. No, don’t call him. You don’t need to do that.”

“If you think I’m worried about what Dad will say, you don’t know him as well as you think you do either, you selfish prick. He’s essentially cut you both off already! When was the last time you even saw the man? When was the last time anyone saw him? He’s done, and now so am I. And I suspect Gabe was just putting up with you two for my sake. So-“

“Thank you, Bobby. I owe you one. Don’t let him give you any crap, okay? No, I know you can take care of yourself. And he means well. He’s just honestly the last thing I need right now. So if you want to run some interference, I’ll text you his number.”

“Sam,” Dean croaked past the tube between his teeth. 

“Bye, Bobby. Thanks again, for everything. It...it’s never been easy for me or Dean to ask for help. So...thank you for always knowing when we need it.”

The other voice, the one that sounded like gravel across sandpaper and for some reason made him think of pirates, had quieted. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Bobby’s going to call my dad and give him the updates, so that’s a weight off my shoulders. What about you? It sounded like things were getting nasty on your call.”

The voice snorted. “Yeah. Well. It’s done. A weight off, like you said. Our family is right here in this room, and we are going to do whatever it takes to bring him home.”

“Cas? Angel, I know you’re hurt.”

“Of course I am. But what’s important now is-“

“Angel?” Dean choked. “Thought he was a pirate?”

The first voice, the one belonging to the other half of Dean’s soul, gasped. “Dean? Are you trying to wake up?”

He grunted. Trying? If anything, he was trying not to wake up, but the voices seemed determined to drive pain through his hungover head. “Sam,” he tried again. “Water.” He would know Sam’s voice under any circumstances. But he didn’t recognize his own right now, and he thought that should have been more upsetting than it was, but he was drifting off to sleep, so it really didn’t matter. “Lisa,” he sighed, and all was dark again inside his head.


	10. Family Doesn’t End

“Lisa isn’t going to let him out of her sight,” Sam laughed quietly as he entered their room. 

Castiel smiled up at him from his chair. “Can you blame her?”

He hung his jacket over the desk, and sat on the bed wearily. “She gave me her number three times. Made me keep checking I had it. I thought she was going to kill him when she got there. I think maybe she thought she would too. But the minute she saw him, she just started crying and kissing him. It was like she was trying to be angry with him, but couldn’t. And when he said he was sorry, she just gave up entirely. It was actually kind of cute.”

The artist put his book aside. “I would have lost my mind if it were me. She and Ben go out of town to see her sister, Dean leaves to see you, and she gets home to find out he nearly died, and no one could reach her. God, Sam. Imagine you dying and I never even knew you were hurt, didn’t have the chance to be there for you.”

He sighed, and lay back. “I don’t want to imagine that.”

“Neither do I. But it’s hard not to. Sam, am I on your emergency contact list at school? Does Dean have my number?” He stood to join him on the bed, worry in his blue gaze. 

Sam laughed a little. “Yes, Cas. Dean and I have been sufficiently scolded about not having any way to reach one another’s friends, and about not knowing who to contact for help, as well as not knowing how to ask for help when we need it.”

“If it weren’t for Bobby Singer-“

“Cas! Enough! Dean and I have promised you and Lisa a dozen times that we will get in contact with you if we need you!”

Castiel lay beside him, and kissed him softly. “You’ve never asked me for anything, my love. I think that’s why I was starting to think that my money was the only thing I had to offer. Because I know you need money, but you won’t tell me if you need anything else. You won’t even tell me you need that. I’ve seen your childhood home, Sam. I’ve seen how Dean is living. You never let me know how bad things were. How can I trust that you’ll tell me in the future that you need help? How can I trust that you’ll lean on me if you’ve only ever leaned on Dean, and he won’t even tell you how bad things have gotten for him?”

Sam lowered his eyes. “Anytime things got hard, we worked harder. That’s just how it was. We managed.”

“Sam, your brother convinced himself he had to pay off debt your father took on before he could commit to Lisa. Would he ever have done it? Or would he have spent years like this, trying to dig out of a hole that was left for him to fall into?”

Tears burned Sam’s eyes. “He already has spent years like this,” he whispered hoarsely. 

“And you? You didn’t see how he’s struggling because it has always been this way for you. Because he’s always smiled. Because neither of you have ever had better, and because you both insist you’re fine. How old were you when ‘fine’ started, Sam?”

He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling until it blurred. “We were always fine,” he answered. “When Dad was here, it was just one more person for Dean to take care of. Since before I can remember. When he left, there was even less money, but also less yelling, less drinking. Dean joked once that he was pretty sure the money not spent on Jim and Jack balanced out whatever money Dad would have contributed. The irony of Adam was that he had to pay all that back child support before his mom would let Dad move in where he could start over without the debt, live the life he never could have had with us. He had to take out loans to pay back that debt, so he could be free of debt. And Dean was just in deeper than ever.”

“And would he have ever told you?”

He smiled sadly. “You know he wouldn’t have. Not that. Never. He never would have let me help him even if I could have. If you hadn’t...And then you paid it all off before he could even leave the hospital...He’s still angry with you about that.”

Castiel nodded. “I know. But I spoke with him this morning, for a long time, just the two of us while you were helping Lisa move some of his things to her place. He’s angry because he needed help, Sam, not because we helped him. And I think he’s ready to let go of the way he’s always felt responsible for your dad. He raised you, he paid John’s bills, and he deserves to not owe anyone anything now.”

Sam wiped at his eyes. “He agreed to let you buy the house?”

“He did. I think Lisa gave him an ultimatum, though he didn’t say as much. Once we’ve moved him in with her completely, I’m going to have the place fixed up and donated to a local charity Dean chose, to be auctioned off. It’s an organization that arranges for emergency foster care for kids. Dean’s happy about that. But it’s your home too. Are you okay with it?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, Cas. Angel, that’s the best thing that could come of that old place. A lot of ghosts in that house, Cas. Dean and I both want to move past them.”

He wrapped his arms around his lover. “He’s got a lot of work to do to recover. And he said Bobby Singer is holding onto the Impala until Dean can fix her up himself. In the meantime, Lisa plans to teach him how to let her take care of him. A fresh start.”

Sam placed his head on Castiel’s black tee, listening to the steady heartbeat. “A lot is changing so quickly.”

“Are you all right?”

“Are you? You just cut ties with most of your family.”

Castiel hummed in opposition. “No, Sam. You are my family. Dean is. And Gabe and Kali too. I have plenty of family, more than I ever had before. And this family doesn’t care about the clothes I wear, and the music I listen to, and they support what’s important to me. They’re there to help me, and they let me help them.”

“That’s the way it’s supposed to be, Angel.”

“You and Dean showed me what family should be. There is no amount of money that is more valuable than knowing you’re loved as you are. I’m done pretending to be something I’m not. I like who I am with you, Sam. I realize now that I never liked who I was with my brothers.”

Sam turned suddenly, and covered the man in kisses. He wrapped them together tightly. “I love who you are with me, Cas.”

He could feel his artist, his angel, sigh happily from inside his arms.


End file.
